


Only Once, Unexpectedly, Then Never Again

by yuffiehighwind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: The young, portal jumping thief Jefferson meets Dr. Victor Frankenstein.
Relationships: Victor Frankenstein | Dr. Whale/Mad Hatter | Jefferson
Kudos: 7





	Only Once, Unexpectedly, Then Never Again

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this fanfic as [Chapter 9](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469/chapters/68559087) of my longer fanfic "[I’m lighting matches just to swallow up the flame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27555469),” so the events of this ‘fic take place within the same universe as my old fanfiction series “[Some Kind of Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/series/30855).”
> 
> This takes place during the flashback in S2E5, "The Doctor," in between the scenes witnessed in the episode. (Which I don't retell here, so hopefully you're familiar with them.) It also references the deleted scene in which Victor, Jefferson, and Regina triggered a booby-trap when they took a heart from Cora's vault. The interactions Victor had with Rumplestiltskin in the flashback from S2E12, "In the Name of the Brother,” are also referenced.
> 
> William is a character from the graphic novel "Out of the Past" who Jefferson used to work with.
> 
> Much of the Hat's physics mentioned here come from the world-building in my old 2013 fanfic "[Jump In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/612526)."
> 
> The title comes from this quote from the novel "Boy, Snow, Bird" by Helen Oyeyemi: “That's the ideal meeting - once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again.”  
> 

The year is 1990-something, and a combination of curiosity and pathetic neediness compels Jefferson towards Storybrooke’s hospital to watch Dr. Whale work. Pretending to be a patient is much easier than actually being one, and pretending to be an orderly even easier. Someday, knowing his way around the hospital will come in handy, but right now Jefferson dons scrubs just to be near his crush.

Jefferson is much quieter now - like a ghost - while the doctor is more open and talkative. The portal jumper had a motormouth when they met what feels like a lifetime ago. He tried to teach the jumper the value of stillness, but Jefferson was a restless young man. The scientist took a drawing pad with him to kill time while Jefferson set things up with Regina, which was a wise choice, because he was captivated by everything he saw, and wanted to record as much of it as possible. 

“Remarkable,” was a word he muttered the most often on their trip. Today Jefferson registers the scientist’s accent as British - specifically English - though he seems to remember his home being Germany. Of course, at the time, all of those names meant different things, and Jefferson spent so much time jumping, that he took his ability to understand any language for granted. 

One day, Storybrooke blesses its captives with warm weather, everyone donning sunglasses, including the good doctor. Whale’s glasses don’t look quite the same as his old ones - they’re not round and they’re not red - but Jefferson is still launched into a memory, and re-lives their fateful meeting. The one that cursed the whole town.

* * *

Jefferson approaches an ordinary castle that looks spookier in monochrome. Everything around him is black and white and shades of grey. The jumper has been to stranger worlds - even at this early point in his life - but none so strange as one entirely devoid of color. 

Jefferson dresses extravagantly, both emboldened by his accumulating wealth, and trying hard to look much older. But it otherwise draws no attention. Black pants with a long black coat, dark brown travel bag, and his black Hat. Jefferson doesn’t stand out much if he keeps his coat closed, but he’s always looked best in red. He doesn’t bother hiding his colored garments from the scientist, who’s already had the shock of meeting a striking figure like Rumple. 

When someone from the Enchanted Forest enters the Land Without Color, they take their color with them, and when someone from that land goes to the Forest, they take on their new world’s hue. It’s another strange quirk that delights an explorer like Jefferson, who is determined to go everywhere he possibly can, even if it takes him his whole life.

This time Fate has taken Jefferson to a mad scientist’s estate - a brand new experience that might even be fun - though he won’t know how significant this job is or how destructive its repercussions will be for many years to come.

The moment hasn’t arrived yet, because a lord with a house like this has a servant who answers the door. But the servant introduces Jefferson to a tall light-haired man in his mid-twenties whose posture, clothes and classy demeanor indicate this is the person he’s been hired to ferry.

“Doctor Frankenstein, I presume. It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Jefferson. I’ve been sent by our mutual acquaintance to provide my services.” 

Receiving a slightly puzzled look, Jefferson adds, “Rumplestiltskin.” He gestures to his own face. “The menacing fellow with the golden complexion. If you can see the color of gold. I’m still not sure how this works.”

“ _You’re_ the ‘Master of the Hat?’” Dr. Frankenstein says incredulously.

“Is that what Rumplestiltskin called me? That’s a good one. He’s given me a few names. Hatter, Jumper, some less flattering ones…”

“Where is he?”

“Oh, he’s back in our world. I came here with my human partner. He’ll remain here while we’re gone and see if he can’t pick up some work of his own. Our job is to get you where you need to go. Normally we work in acquisitions, ferrying travelers on the side. It can be dangerous, stepping into another world. You never know what to expect. I thought there was something wrong with my eyes when I first came to your colorless land.”

Jefferson casually opens his coat, showing off his ruby scarf. Dr. Frankenstein’s eyes are drawn to it. So the people here _can_ see in color. Interesting. Rumplestiltskin must have given him a fright. 

“Just so you know, we’re not partners in love, merely partners in crime,” Jefferson says. Something he usually wouldn’t clarify about William. He’s not sure why he’s saying it now. It’s probably to do with how the handsome scientist is looking at his body, fascinated by his clothes. 

“I’ve got my eye on the queen we’re conning,” Jefferson continues, which isn’t untrue. “She’s a pretty young thing. A little too gullible, though. I thought sorceresses were smarter.”

“You talk a lot.”

Jefferson smiles, ignoring the veiled insult.

“Intelligent doctors are far more attractive.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“For the business of interdimensional travel?”

“For that too.”

Doctor Frankenstein doesn’t look amused or intrigued, and certainly not attracted. He looks somewhat annoyed, and tired already. Jefferson has a feeling that irritating him will be rather entertaining. 

Rumplestiltskin has never moodily questioned Jefferson’s age, probably because anyone under two hundred is a child to him. He calls him “boy,” but doesn’t question his maturity. At least not to Jefferson’s face. 

“Relax,” Jefferson says, because Doctor Frankenstein is as tense as a steel rod. Jefferson takes off his Hat and spins it in his hands. He’ll never let it drop, never let another person hold it, not even William, who he trusts more than anyone. But he likes playing with the thing, flipping it up his arm onto his head. 

“You’re in the best of hands,” Jefferson assures him, smiling at the doctor, who doesn’t smile back. 

Doctor Frankenstein leads Jefferson to a room where he’s already packed equipment they’ll need to fake a resurrection. Looking around, Jefferson says, “I take it Rumplestiltskin has already briefed you on the details?”

“Yes. I have everything we need to make this look convincing. All I require is your assistance transporting it. What sort of vessel do you use to travel between worlds?”

Jefferson grins. It’s showtime. 

“Do you have some empty floor space that’s at least, umm, ten feet by ten feet?”

Jefferson doesn’t know what measurements they use in Dr. Frankenstein’s world, but like every land he’s been to, somehow the locals know exactly what he means. They’re going to have to go outside. 

The jumper helps Dr. Frankenstein load all his equipment onto a cart. They find an empty space on the property and Jefferson says, “Okay, this is how it’s gonna work. You keep one hand on that cart, and take my hand with the other when I say.”

“What are we doing? You still haven’t explained to me how you travel.”

Jefferson shrugs.

“That’s because I like to surprise people. I love the shocked look on their faces.”

He takes off the Hat. 

“You’re joking,” says Dr. Frankenstein, and there’s that amusingly annoyed expression again.

The jumper laughs. “This is gonna be great!”

Jefferson has had five years of practice opening and closing portals, finding and sealing interdimensional doorways, and good old-fashioned teleporting. The safest and surest method of opening a portal is setting the Hat down on an open, flat surface and turning it with his fingers three times. But Jefferson enjoys being dramatic, so he’s mastered a stylish, fluid throw that twirls the artifact just enough times mid-air to open that purple vortex beneath it in a dazzling cloud of magic, before sinking down, down, down into a black void. A hole in the earth, a hole in reality, a tunnel, a chasm, a terrifying leap into the unknown. 

Jefferson would have been scared witless had his first experience been that drop, but he first made his acquaintance with the Hat at 15 years old running through a wooden door he thought was to a shed, not to a space between worlds. It didn’t turn into a hat until he’d wished himself home, and it didn’t turn into a vortex until he tried to get back there, to that chamber, the Portal of Doors. He knew what was at the bottom of that drop, then. It wasn’t death, it wasn’t eternity, it was a drop into that room. A space between universes he could retreat to if necessary. 

But anybody else looking down into that pit doesn’t see the floor of a comfy room Jefferson associates with safety. They just think they’re gonna die. 

Dr. Frankenstein screams, Jefferson makes a whooping noise, and their drop isn’t actually very far. In fact, they don’t land as though they’ve fallen or jumped, they reappear standing still in the peaceful center of that room. Dr. Frankenstein is still clutching both the cart and Jefferson’s hand, and the jumper has to shake him off. 

“Open your eyes, Doctor.”

Dr. Frankenstein does. He looks around, appearing more stunned than anyone else Jefferson’s ever taken here. Probably because Jefferson’s other friends, lovers, and clients have all come from worlds with magic. They are impressed by the room, but never disbelieving. Dr. Frankenstein looks more human than he has all night. He pinches himself, somehow convinced he’s dreaming. 

“You must explain this to me. Everything.”

“I thought you were a busy man. Also, we’re on a tight schedule.” 

Jefferson takes out his pocket watch - not to actually check it, because it’s a normal timepiece he will have to manually readjust - but holds it up meaningfully, tapping it. 

“There’s an inn we’ll be staying at for the next two nights. Once we arrive and check in, I will tell you all you want to know about jumping.”

Dr. Frankenstein turns around and around, captivated by the colors, patterns and shapes that adorn the 17 doors currently visible. Then he looks down at himself. 

“My clothes,” he says in wonder. 

Jefferson smirks. “Huh. They’re grey. Who would’ve guessed? Hang on, what are those?”

Dr. Frankenstein has glasses tucked in one coat pocket, sticking out slightly. They seem to have some hue to them that catches Jefferson’s eye. Frankenstein takes them out completely. They’re red. 

“Hey, nice taste,” Jefferson says with a smile, pointing to his own red garments.

“Which door do we pass through to reach your land?” 

“Okay, so, this is the tricky part,” Jefferson says. “It’s one that I never quite understood, but I think it might be because the Hat was created in that world. I could be wrong, but who knows. Anyway, here goes nothing.”

Jefferson snaps his fingers, and suddenly they’re in the Enchanted Forest in front of an inn. Dr. Frankenstein stumbles forward, dizzy and disoriented. 

“Give a man some warning next time!” 

Jefferson laughs. 

“I don’t get why teleporting here makes people so nauseous. You’d think the fall would do it, but no, it’s the snap.”

Dr. Frankenstein realizes the cart has traveled with them, and holds onto it for balance. 

“Is this where we’ll be staying?” he asks. He still looks wonderstruck by the colors all around him.

“Yes. I spoke to our mark this morning and told her I’ll bring you to her castle tomorrow.”

“Our ‘mark.’ This all seemed a bit beneath me, but--”

“Well you’re in the game now, Doc. Can I call you ‘Doc?’”

“I prefer ‘Doctor.’”

“Not a mad scientist, then? Someone in your city called you that. I’m the one who tipped Rumplestiltskin off, by the way. Told him I had heard of a man who wanted to raise the dead.”

“Is that how he found me?”

“Metallic-sheened sorcerers aren’t clairvoyant, ya know. I get my information from the common people. And the common people in _your_ city? Do _not_ like what you’re doing.”

Rather than defiant or determined, or even angry, this comment instead makes the doctor look sad. Jefferson isn’t sure why Frankenstein needs an enchanted heart - he thinks it’s to prove all his detractors wrong - and doesn’t learn the grim truth until decades later. For now, they get settled in and put their coats away in their room. In the tavern downstairs, the pair have some dinner, and Jefferson orders the doctor a drink. 

“No, thank you.”

“Come on. The first thing I do in every new world is try the food and drinks. Here’s some food,” Jefferson says, nudging a plate of mashed potatoes towards the doctor. “And here’s a drink.” He pushes a mug of ale into his hand. Frankenstein’s lip curls in subtle disgust and Jefferson rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll get us some wine,” he says, and fetches some. The doctor is more amenable to trying this, and comments it’s not very different from his own. 

“The nature of humanity,” Jefferson says, “is that somebody always invents wine.”

Nothing much happens that night - nothing interesting to Jefferson, at least - but Dr. Frankenstein asks question after question about portal jumping, which to Jefferson’s embarrassment, he has to confess he doesn’t know enough about. 

“Our scientific methods are different, Doc. Your research is conducted in a lab, while mine must all be in the field. I gather all the knowledge I can about artifacts, methods and spells used by past and present Jumpers. I explore places, map them - or buy maps. I trade for things. I talk to people. I observe them and eavesdrop when I can, especially on mages. You want to learn something new, eavesdrop on a mage. You want to learn arcane secrets, get one drunk.”

“But this is all how you conduct your business, is it not? ‘Acquisitions,’ you said. You’re a thief.”

Jefferson smiles. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not genuinely curious about the multiverse.”

“Multiverse?”

“Multiple universes. Multiverse.” Frankenstein’s expression is inscrutable, so Jefferson says, “Look, I know it sounds weird.”

“It’s not,” Frankenstein says. “It’s remarkable.”

The doctor smiles at him, genuinely and warmly, blue eyes and a face that is still too damn handsome for the person Jefferson expected to be working with.

“You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” Jefferson says. “Those stories people told, I pictured some old wizard like Rumple. By the way, I told Regina that you’re a wizard.”

“You are _much_ younger than I expected.”

Jefferson pouts. 

“There you go again. What is it? I know it’s not my looks.”

“It’s the way you carry yourself. The way you speak.” 

Indignantly, Jefferson asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You come across as a bit...immature.”

“Immature?” Jefferson frowns. “You know how fast I’ve had to grow up? Let me take a guess - you had rich parents, a fancy education, and all the funding you needed until you decided to play with dead things. Am I wrong?”

“You have no idea what I’ve gone through.”

“Am I wrong?”

After a pause, Frankenstein answers, "You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve been on my own since I was twelve years old, and I’ve been jumping since I was fifteen.” Jefferson scoffs. “‘Immature.’”

“Let’s amend that to ‘a bit too carefree.’”

Calming, Jefferson shrugs and pours himself some more wine. 

“I’ll take that as a fair criticism.” 

“Last call!” announces the bartender. 

“Want anything?” Jefferson asks. 

“I think it’s time we went to bed.”

Jefferson grins. “I like the sound of that.”

“To sleep.”

Jefferson makes an exaggerated pout. 

“You’re too young for me,” Frankenstein says, and Jefferson bursts into laughter. 

“I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough.”

“You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

* * *

Suffice it to say, the con goes as planned - mostly, with one terrifying brush with death in the booby-trapped heart vault - and the two men leave a devastated Regina to her sorrow, pack up and head back to the inn. 

Despite pulling off their scam, Frankenstein is more serious than ever, with a bristling impatience to return home. 

He isn’t pleased that Jefferson won’t let him keep the heart on his side of their room. He’s even more upset when the jumper informs him, “I forgot to tell you, the deal’s not done until Rumplestiltskin says it’s done.”

_“What?”_

Jefferson makes a defensive gesture. “He needs to see Regina’s reaction to her heartbreak. See if the plan really worked.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, he wants this to push her towards evil, or something.” 

“You don’t even know?”

“Look, Doc, I don’t ask him questions he doesn’t want to answer. Rumplestiltskin is a powerful sorcerer who pays well. In our world, you don’t cross a man like that. We call him the Dark One.”

“Hang on,” says Frankenstein. “The Dark One? What is that, some kind of...demon?”

Jefferson nods his head, saying, “That’s a pretty good word for it.”

“So I’ve made a deal with the Devil, is that it?”

“I deal with that devil all the time, and so far I’ve kept my head. I’m not starting to question a man like that now.”

Anger isn’t attractive on Frankenstein’s face, but it’s not unattractive either. This might be their last night or the first of several tense ones, but Jefferson’s instinct is to grab a bottle of wine and drink the entire thing with him. 

“You need to relax. I’ll get you home.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s unacceptable.”

Jefferson throws up his hands. Sighing, he says, “That’s just how it is.”

The two men have rented a single room with two beds - Jefferson’s money got them the largest one, but it’s still a small space. They sit on each bed across from each other, because Frankenstein has his feet on the floor seeming ready for a fight, and Jefferson has his feet on the floor ready to go down to the damn kitchen and get that wine. The doctor’s blue eyes dart towards the Hat on Jefferson’s side of the room. The jumper chuckles softly. 

“You can’t open it. It...it only allows its owner to activate it. I don’t know why.”

“Another thing your research hasn’t discovered?”

“I don’t let magic-users touch it to examine it. I don’t let anyone touch it at all.” Jefferson purses his lips. “I want to try something.” He stands up and gets the Hat, then holds it out to Frankenstein.

“You can’t use magic, can you?” Jefferson’s question is rhetorical. The whole point of Frankenstein’s mission was to travel to this world and take some for himself.

Frankenstein accepts the Hat from Jefferson’s hands. The doctor holds it gingerly, like it will explode any second. 

“I don’t even let William do this. I mean, he’ll hold it for me sometimes, but…” Jefferson licks his lips, staring at the artifact. “But we were born here, where anyone can have magic in their blood. I didn’t want to risk it, and he understood why.”

“What are you saying?” Frankenstein watches Jefferson with some fascination. He seems to have forgotten his anger about being kept here. 

“I tell everyone I meet that only I can activate the portal, but I’m lying. I lie to everyone, because I’m afraid of what would happen if someone took it.”

Frankenstein, still holding the Hat by his fingertips, asks, “Is it dangerous to always keep it on your person? Top hats aren’t the fashion in every world, I expect.”

“That’s why I use doors. They’re shockingly secure, too. You can only enter one if you already know that it’s there.”

“Those doors in the chamber. They each lead to…”

“...an already existing tear in the fabric of reality.”

“I was going to say ‘a different world,’ but that’s an interesting way of putting it.”

“Yes, uh, I think…” Jefferson sits right beside Frankenstein on his bed, and the doctor doesn’t move. “The doors lead to specific places in each world that have the most highly concentrated amounts of magic. For example, the energy in the Crystalsong Forest is astounding. You can feel it all around you!”

“The Crystalsong Forest is a world?”

“No, it’s a specific valley on the northern-most continent in Azeroth.” Jefferson smiles. “That’s my favorite world.” 

“Can you go anywhere in a world, or just where the door takes you?”

Excitedly, Jefferson replies, “That’s the amazing thing about it! There are these...not different door knobs, uh, but like, switches or something. Dials.” Jefferson makes twisting motions with his hands, but finds the gesture insufficient for describing the method of swapping destinations. “But they’re invisible. Intangible. I know how to do it myself, but it’s hard to describe.”

“I understand exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” Frankenstein sighs. “I’d ask you to show me, but I need to get home.”

“I can’t take you home yet.” Frankenstein frowns, his indignation returning. Jefferson says, “Try throwing it.”

“What?”

“Throw the Hat. Over there. Across the room.”

“There’s not enough space.”

“Just do it.”

Frankenstein exhales, annoyed, and chucks the Hat. 

It spins three times in the air, lands on the opposite bed, rolls off it onto the floor, and nothing happens. 

Jefferson leaps up shouting, “Yes!” Pumping his fist, the jumper says, “It didn’t work!”

Frankenstein smiles slightly. “I’ve never seen anyone so happy about failure.”

Jefferson grasps his shoulders and says delightedly, “Don’t you get it? I was right. I was right! It won’t work!” He runs over to pick up the Hat.

“Don’t throw it yourself,” Frankenstein says. “There’s not enough room for a portal.”

“I know that,” the jumper says, putting the Hat on his head. He can’t stop smiling. 

“Could it not have worked because of the constricted space? You said it wouldn’t work back in the heart vault.”

Jefferson waves his hand dismissively and replies, “Something would have happened, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. A smaller portal might chop off our limbs or something. I honestly don’t know, and I’m not going to risk finding out. Besides, I knew Regina would teleport us, so everything turned out fine.” Jefferson gestures to their bedroom. “This is more than ten by ten feet. The only problem is the portal would suck down all the furniture. That’s why I prefer empty spaces. It’s just like opening a hole in the floor. Everything falls into the vortex.”

“I see.”

“So the reason it didn’t work,” Jefferson says, taking off the Hat and playfully putting it on Frankenstein’s head instead, “is because you’re not me.”

“I thought it was because I have no magic. So you do?”

Jefferson shrugs. “If I ever lose that thing - and pray to the gods that I don’t - I guess I’ll find out.” Jefferson smiles at the doctor and says, “You’re quite handsome, you know.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to go get that wine. Don’t open any portals.”

Jefferson returns to find - unsurprisingly - the doctor repeatedly throwing the Hat to try and open a portal home. The jumper shuts the door behind him, holding up the bottle and two cups. Looking guilty and embarrassed, Frankenstein sets the Hat down on Jefferson’s bed.

“I’m loving this.”

The doctor gives him a sour look.

“You’re trapped here,” Jefferson says, pouring wine in each cup and handing one to Frankenstein. “You’re my handsome captive.” He holds up his cup, saying, “Cheers.” The doctor reluctantly taps his cup to Jefferson’s and takes a drink. 

“So, you don’t like being called ‘Doc,’ and ‘Frankenstein’ is kinda long.”

“Call me Doctor.”

“Do you have a first name?”

“Victor.”

Jefferson smiles. “Victor. I like it. I’m gonna call you that.”

“Please, I’d prefer--”

“Whoever you are, drink up, because we’re celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating, again?”

“We ripped off a queen, you’re getting a magic heart, I’ve learned something about my powers. It’s been a good day!”

Victor still looks miserable, but drinks anyway. 

“How fast can we polish off this bottle, do you think?”

Victor rolls his eyes. Jefferson sits down next to him, rather than across from him, so their shoulders touch. 

“How old are you?” Jefferson asks. “Out of curiosity.”

“I’ve finished medical school.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Twenty-six.”

Jefferson smiles slyly. 

“What?” Victor asks. 

“That’s not much of a difference.”

“Hm,” Victor says neutrally.

“We should play a game.”

“A game?”

“Truth or Dare.”

Victor huffs a laugh.

“You know it already, I take it?” Jefferson asks. 

“That’s a game for children,” the doctor replies. 

“What else is there for us to do?”

“Go to bed?”

Jefferson’s eyes light up. “That sounds like a marvelous idea.”

“I meant--”

“I’m kidding,” Jefferson says. “I can take a hint.”

“Can you really?” Victor says doubtfully. 

“Watch me,” the jumper says, returning to his own bed. He keeps the wine bottle. “You’ll have to come over here for more wine, however.”

“That’s fine. I’m having the one glass, then calling it a night.”

“Suit yourself.”

Some quiet moments pass, and Jefferson is so unused to sharing silence with another person - anyone other than William, at least - that the jumper says, “Truth or Dare. Are we playing it, or not?”

“Truth.”

“Why do you want an enchanted heart?”

Victor takes a long pause. He doesn’t meet Jefferson’s eyes when the jumper looks at him expectantly. 

“You can be as vague as necessary,” he says, noting the doctor’s discomfort. 

“For my experiments. Now you.”

“Dare.”

Victor exhales, seeming annoyed he’s being asked to come up with one, but Jefferson has shared enough truths tonight. 

“I dare you to…” 

“Make it as boring or as interesting as you like. No pressure.”

Victor’s brow furrows, thinking.

“I dare you to yell curses out that window.”

“Magical curses, or just ordinary swears?”

“Ordinary swears. As loud as you can.”

Jefferson does it, making Victor laugh. 

“I can’t believe you did that!”

“Now you.”

“Truth.”

Jefferson scoffs. “What _is_ truth anyway?”

“Like the sun,” Victor says, draining his cup. He holds it out to Jefferson. “More wine?”

“Only if you pick dare.”

Victor frowns. 

“I can see the wheels turning inside that spiky-haired head of yours, Jumper.”

Jefferson laughs, pouring wine into the doctor’s cup. 

“I dare you to kiss me.”

“See? I knew you were going to say that.”

“You can kiss me anywhere.”

Victor sighs in relief, takes Jefferson’s hand, and gives the back of it a peck. 

“There. Now you.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to be quiet for ten blessed minutes.”

He does it. 

“Can I talk now?” Jefferson asks, but Victor has his eyes closed, peacefully dozing. “Are you asleep?”

“No,” the doctor says, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Just enjoying the silence.”

“You pick now.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me on the lips.”

Victor opens his eyes and smiles slightly, and Jefferson can tell the man’s been drinking. His expression is of amusement, not arousal, like Jefferson is that kid the doctor teased for being immature. 

“Come here,” he says, and Jefferson gets up, sitting next to the doctor on his bed. “Stay very still,” he says softly, in that accent, in a commanding tone that turns Jefferson on despite usually bristling at people telling him what to do. “Close your eyes,” he says. 

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Jefferson says, shutting them.

“Doing what on purpose?”

“That doctor thing. Giving me instructions.”

“What do you mean?”

Jefferson swallows, but keeps his eyes closed. 

“I like it,” he says.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Victor says, and Jefferson takes a breath, his heart beating a little faster. 

Another soft peck Jefferson can barely feel, and the doctor is gone again, no longer touching him. 

“Can I open my eyes now?” he asks, disappointed. 

There is a silent pause, Victor not replying, then Jefferson feels the doctor’s hand on his thigh. 

“No.”

Jefferson lets out a shaky breath, and although Victor hasn’t asked, he says, “Dare.”

With the barest hesitation, the doctor says, “I dare you to kiss me back,” and Jefferson doesn’t need to be told twice. 

“Instruct me,” he asks between kisses. “Doctor.” 

“I’m not good at this."

Jefferson cups the doctor’s cheek, looks him in those blue eyes and replies, “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.” He smirks. “Pretend I’m a patient. A living one.”

“What is your ailment?”

“That’s why I need an exam. A thorough one,” he says, kissing him. “A really thorough examination.”

“I’ve never--”

Jefferson thinks he’s about to get the “never been with a man” talk, but instead the doctor says, “I’ve never talked like that. In bed.”

“It’s fun,” Jefferson says. “Don’t think about it too hard.” Victor stops kissing him, so Jefferson says, “Look, we can do whatever you want to do. I just enjoy hearing your voice.”

With the most professional, clinical tone, Victor instructs him, “Take off your clothes.”

Jefferson grins. “Yes, Doctor.”

* * *

In the light of the morning, Victor is colder and more withdrawn, and Jefferson realizes the fun is over. 

“Look, we had some wine and made each other feel good. It’s not a big deal.”

Victor frowns. 

“I never said it was.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not happening again, though,” the doctor says.

Jefferson looks away, feeling embarrassed and more disappointed by rejection than usual. 

“Okay.”

Regina still doesn’t turn evil or whatever, so the doctor is stuck in the Enchanted Forest for a third night. The men have no wine, and Victor seems to have forgotten their tryst already. The perfect partner, Jefferson should think, who displays no awkwardness about a drunken tumble. Yet there’s that nagging disappointment deep within him for some reason. Jefferson intensifies his eccentric public persona to quash it. Victor is annoyed Rumplestiltskin hasn’t contacted them yet, and it’s all just as well. 

This whole job was one of his better ones, Jefferson tells himself. He got a royal passport, he scammed a cute queen, he learned more about the Hat, had sex with a handsome stranger, Rumplestiltskin probably owes him for life, and Jefferson barely did any work. 

He and the doctor part ways amicably. Jefferson bids Victor farewell and good luck, and figures he’ll never see the man ever again. 

“I’m Dr. Whale,” he introduces himself many years later - for the first of many, many first times - and Jefferson’s stomach drops, because he remembers why they’re both here, jailed, in this nightmarish, looping amnesiac town. 

And it’s all his fault.


End file.
